U
p close, the house looked – and felt – even worse.
The back wall was covered with tarpaulin panels. Over the years, the edges had peeled away from the wood and brickwork, and now they resembled a line of hooded cloaks hanging on a row of pegs, just waiting to be worn to some sacrificial black mass.
Cam shivered again.
In amongst the cloaks were the remains of a doorway. Frame rotted, eaten away from the ground up, paint flaked off and blown away. The door it held looked flimsy enough too, missing paint showing wood that looked like shredded wheat.
‘Go on, get it open.’
Gav’s voice behind Cam.
Cam reached out, turned the handle, pushed. Nothing. Pushed again, slightly harder this time. Still wouldn’t budge. And again, more force this time. Nothing. He stopped, turned to Gav. Hoping that would be the end of it. That they could leave now. Return to the sun, the warmth.
Gav had other ideas. ‘Useless twat, give it here.’
He twisted the handle, pushed. Hard. Nothing. Anger, never far from the surface of Gav’s steroid-addled psyche, was rising within him, reddening his face, making him tense his arms. He stepped back, shoulder-charged the door. A splintering sound, but it held firm. The sound was encouragement enough. Gav did it again. And again.
The door resisted, but eventually, with a loud crack and a shriek of breaking timber, gave.
Gav stood there, bent double, hands on knees, panting.
‘Go on then, kid … in you go … ’
Cam looked between Gav and the darkness. Reluctantly, he entered.
It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the gloom after the bright morning sunshine outside. And once they had, it was pretty much as he would have expected. Razor blades of dusty light cut through the gaps in the wood and brickwork of the walls, illuminating a desolate, dank space.
The boards beneath Cam’s feet creaked as he put pressure on them. He was wary about entering further in case the floor gave way beneath him. A shadow loomed behind him.
‘Come on, get movin’.’
Cam stepped further into the house.
‘Jesus Christ … ’ Gav again. ‘That smell … ’
Cam hadn’t noticed he had been holding his breath. He let the air out of his lungs, breathed in. And immediately gagged. The stench was awful, almost physical in its putrid power.
‘God … ’ said Gav. ‘Smells like someone died in here … ’
‘Don’t say that.’
Gav looked at him, about to make a joke. But Cam could tell he was becoming just as scared. Gav said nothing.
‘Let’s look around.’ Cam was surprised at the strength in his voice, the bravery of the statement. But it had nothing to do with bravery. He just wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. The sooner this house was demolished, the better.
Cam, still wary of the floorboards, moved further into the room. The smell was overpowering. Cam hated to admit it, but Gav had been right. It smelled like someone had died in there.
There was a set of stairs off to the left of the room, leading upwards. They looked, if anything, even riskier than the floorboards. Directly ahead was a doorway through to another room. It had no door, and Cam was aware of quick, darting movements in the shadows at his feet as he moved slowly towards it. Rats. He hoped.
The remains of a kitchen were decaying in the next room, cabinets empty, doors missing or hanging by half-hinges, lino underfoot broken and missing.
‘Anything there?’ said Gav from the main room.
‘Kitchen,’ said Cam. ‘Or it was once.’ At the far end of the room was another doorway. Cam moved towards it. There was a door in this one. Closed. And it looked newer, sturdier than the rest of the inside. He reached down. The handle looked newer too.
Heart skipping a beat, he turned it.
A sudden light came from behind him. He jumped, screamed, shut his eyes.
‘It’s a torch, you soft bastard,’ said Gav.
Cam forced his heart rate to slow down. Gav swung the torch round the main room. The small black shadows scuttled away. They
were
rats. But something else had been there. Among the debris of the falling-apart building, the bricks, old concrete and cement, pieces of wood and broken furniture, were more recent leavings. Pizza cartons. Fast-food wrappings. Newspapers. Gav shone his torch down on them.
‘Look at that,’ he said. ‘The date. Couple of weeks ago. Recent … ’
The bad feeling Cam had been harbouring increased. ‘Let’s get out of here, Gav. Come on. This … this isn’t right.’
Gav frowned angrily, fighting the fear inside himself, not wanting to show it. ‘Bollocks. Just some old tramp or somethin’ been dossin’ down here. Come on.’ He pointed to the door. ‘What’s in there?’
‘Toilet?’
‘Open it.’
Cam, sweating now, turned the handle.
It wasn’t a toilet. It was another flight of stairs, this time leading down. The darkness sucked away what light there was like a black hole.
‘Gav … ’
Cam stood back to let Gav see. Gav drew level. The two of them in the cramped kitchen filled it, made the place seem claustrophobic. Gav shone the torch into the dark stairwell. The two of them looked at other.
‘Go on then,’ said Gav, licking his lips.
Dry from the steroids, thought Cam. Or fear.
Cam opened his mouth, wanted to complain, but knew it would be no use. Putting his hand out to steady himself against the wall, he began to make his way downwards.
The wall was clammy, cold. He felt damp flaking plaster and paint beneath his palm. The steps creaked as he placed his feet on them, felt soft at times.
He reached the bottom. Felt hard-packed earth beneath his boots, a low ceiling above his head. The smell was worse down here; corruption allied to a pervasive dampness that made his skin itch and tingle unpleasantly.
He crouched and looked round. Saw shadow on shadow. Behind him, Gav started to move down the stairs, swinging the beam of his torch as he did so. Cam caught flashes of illumination, made out something at the far end of the cellar.
‘What … what’s that?’ He pointed. Gav stopped descending, stayed where he was on the stairs.
‘What’s what?’
‘Over there, it’s … ’
Something glimpsed in the beam’s swinging light. Quickly, then gone. A construction of some sort, criss-cross.
And behind it, within it, some kind of movement.
‘Come on,’ said Gav, ‘let’s get out of here.’
‘Just a minute.’ Cam surprised himself with the strength in his voice. His heart was hammering, blood pounding round his body, but fear or no fear, he wanted to know what he had seen.
‘What d’you mean, just a minute? Come on, we’re goin’.’
‘Wait.’ Cam’s voice, stronger now. ‘Point the torch over there, in the corner.’
‘Why?’ Panic creeping into Gav’s voice now.
‘Because there’s something over there.’
Gav, grumbling, reluctantly did so. The beam illuminated a cage, built into one whole wall of the cellar. The bars were the colour of stained teeth, tied together with what looked like strips of old leather.
‘Jesus … ’ Gav tried to back away, found he couldn’t move. ‘A cage … What’s … what’s a cage doin’ down here?’
Cam didn’t answer. He didn’t know the answer. Fascinated, he started to move towards it.
‘Where you goin’?’
‘Just … I saw something … ’ Cam kept walking. Slowly. ‘Keep the torch pointed at the cage. Let me see … ’
Something moved in the corner. Shifted. A shadow with substance and bulk.
‘There’s somethin’ in there … ’ Gav, no longer hiding the fear in his voice.
Cam stopped walking. Stood rooted to the spot, staring. He glanced round, back to Gav.
‘Keep the torch there.’
Cam reached the cage. Extended a hand, touched it. The smell was worse in this corner. Animal waste, plus corruption. The bars themselves stank. Cam leaned in close, smelled them. Like old bones in a butcher’s shop.
He froze.
Old bones. That was exactly what they were.
‘Come on! I’m goin’.’
The beam wavered as Gav turned, indicated the way back upstairs.
‘Give me a minute,’ Cam shouted back.
‘I just want to—’ He didn’t get to say what he wanted to do. With a clanking rattling of chains, the thing in the cage sprang at the bars, roaring. It grabbed Cam by the arm, the neck.
Cam screamed, tried to pull away. Couldn’t. The grip was too strong.
He tried to shout for Gav to help him, but the words came out as one solid block of noise.
The pain increased. He looked down, saw that the thing in the cage had sunk its teeth into his arm.
Cam screamed even louder.
Suddenly he was in the dark. Gav had left him, run back up the stairs, taking the torch with him.
Cam felt the teeth bite further into his arm, accompanied by a snarl, like a hungry dog feasting. He grabbed his own neck, felt fingers digging in, tried to prise them away.
The snarling increased.
Cam pulled harder on the fingers. Felt something snap.
An animal howl of pain. The grip on his arm loosened slightly.
He pulled another finger back. Heard another snap.
The grip on his arm slackened, the pain eased.
Realising that he wouldn’t get another chance, Cam pulled as hard as he could. His neck was freed, then his arm. Not bothering to look behind him, he ran for the stairs.
All the way up, not caring if they gave way underneath him, just desperate to be out of the house.
Then, once upstairs, straight through the kitchen, the main room and out of the door.
And running.
As far away from the house as possible.
Because, before Gav had taken the torch and run, Cam had seen what was there.
A child. A feral child.
In a cage of bones.
F
aith ran.
Through the trees, into the forest. Squinting at the sudden daylight, pushing herself as hard as she could, running as fast as she was able. The ground hard and uneven beneath her bare feet, her chest hammering. Arms windmilling wildly, breath barked out in ragged, harsh bursts. Anything to gain momentum, move faster.
Get away from
him
.
Escape from
him.
She ran on. Not knowing where she was going, not stopping to think. This way and that. Wherever there was a clearing between the trees, a space large enough to force herself through, she went. Just trying to put as much distance as possible between herself and …
Him.
Her feet were cut by branches and stones, the soles searing anew with pain each time she landed them hard on the forest floor. Branches and vines slapped at her. Stung. Brambles and thorns tore at her skin, tried to slow her down, pull her back. Claim her for the forest. She ignored them, fought them off. Told herself she felt nothing. No pain, no agony. She would have time for that later. Once she had put distance between herself and …
Faith reached a clearing, slowed down. Hands on thighs, bent double, head down, she gulped in air as hard as she could. No good. She tried, but her body couldn’t do it. Her lungs were burning, seared, but not big enough to take in the amount of air she needed. She cursed herself for being so unfit. For smoking and drinking and not taking any exercise. A pleading mantra ran through her head:
Pleasegodletmegetoutofthis … pleaseplease … please … Ipromise … please … IpromiseIpromise … I’llbeI’llbe … anythingjust …Iwon’tIwon’t … please …
Eyes screwed tight shut, she concentrated.
Pleasepleaseplease …
She saw Ben in her mind’s eye. Her son. Smiling at her. Like an image from a different world. She’d left Donna to look after him. Gone to work.
And how had she got from there to here? How had she got into this? How? She knew. She had thought she had been clever. Standing in New Town, her usual spot. Making it look like a pick-up, like work. Knowing it was anything but. Feeling a bit protected thinking he’d be on CCTV somewhere.
And then the drive. Faith was used to getting into men’s cars. She knew the risks. But with the insurance she’d put in place, she’d doubted there was much risk in this one. Not for her, anyway. Because Donna would know what to do. Faith could count on Donna.
But he had hit the town limits and kept going. She had asked him where, and he had told her. Somewhere private. Somewhere they could talk. Where he could get what he wanted and she could get what she wanted.
Yeah, she had thought. Heard that one before.
But it hadn’t worked out like that. Not at all.
He had taken her somewhere private, all right. Then … nothing. Until she woke up. In that place. That horrible place. Like something from a horror film. Cold. And dark. And …
Oh God.
The bones. She remembered the bones.
And in that moment she knew where he had taken her.
Back there. Back home.
And she had let him. She was so cross with herself for allowing herself to make such a stupid, simple mistake that her anger gave her the energy to attempt to escape. And she had. She wasn’t stupid. She knew what he had done. One look at that place told her that. If she stayed, she would have no future.
So she had run. Not stopping to look back, or pause to check where she was. Not even noticing she was naked. Just ran. Out into the forest, the open. It was daylight by that time. She had been there all night.
Faith straightened up. Listened. Tried to hear something beyond her own ragged breath. Some sound of her pursuer.
Nothing.
Her body relaxed. Air came more freely into her. Her heart rose slightly. She began to feel the pain in her body. Feel normal again.
Then she heard it. The crack of dry twigs. Footfalls. Heavy. Not caring whether she heard or not. Knowing he was going to find her. She couldn’t stay where she was. She had to keep moving.
Looking round, she quickly decided where the sound was coming from, turned and headed in the opposite direction.
Her feet hammering down hard on the earth, pain starting anew, body racked and burning, feeling worse for stopping, not better.
And on. Running, running, running. Arms pumping, legs pounding. Not stopping. Not looking back. Moving forward, ever forward. Her son in her mind’s eye. Running towards him.
And then … other sounds. In front of her, not behind her.
She slowed, nearly stopping. Listened again, tried to make them out over the top of her laboured, painful breathing.
She knew what the sounds were. She smiled.
Traffic.
She was near to a road.
Smiling, she ran all the harder.
Then: another sound. Behind her this time.
She risked a glance over her shoulder. And there he was.
Faith hadn’t expected him to move so fast, given the size of him. But he was barrelling towards her, knocking branches out of the way as though they weren’t there. Like that Vinnie Jones character in the X-Men film she had watched once with her son.
‘Oh no, oh God … ’
She ran all the harder. Away from him. Towards the traffic.
The forest floor began to slope downwards. There was an incline leading towards the road. Faith ran down it. Brambles and thorns were thick here. They tore at her, attempted to hold her back. She ignored them, refused to feel her arms, legs, as they were ripped open. Some snagged her, refusing to give way. She kept on running, letting them gouge out large lumps of bleeding flesh.
No time for that. Only for escape. Escape …
The road was in sight. The cars speeding past. She could see them. And, in a few seconds, touch them. Her feet ran all the faster.
And then, just as she was about to break free from the thorns, he was on her.
She screamed, tried to pull away. Felt his hot breath on her neck. His strong, meaty, sweaty grip on her shoulders. Fingers like heavy metal bolts digging into her skin.
She screamed again. Knowing she couldn’t match him in strength, she became an eel, twisting and writhing away from his grip. Something she had picked up years ago, used when a customer tried to get a bit too handy. There was another move she knew too.
Squirming and turning in his grasp, she managed to bring her heel up, right into his groin. He might be big and strong, she thought, but there was no way he wouldn’t feel that.
And he did. Grunting, he loosened his grip slightly.
It was all Faith needed. She pushed her body sharply back against him, knocking him off balance, releasing his grip further, then ran.
Towards the road.
She reached the kerb, glanced back. He was following. She allowed herself a small smile of triumph.
She had escaped. Got away. Yes, she—
Didn’t see the VW Passat coming round a blind corner, straight towards her.
Too fast to stop or change direction.
It hit her, sending her body into the windscreen, shattering it, then over the roof of the car, landing in the road behind, her pelvis shattering, twisting the lower part of her body away from the top. The next car, a BMW 4x4, tried to swerve and missed her torso, but wasn’t as lucky with her legs. The thick tyres crushed them as the driver slammed on the brakes.
Faith had no idea what had happened. No time to think. All she saw was daylight, the sky far away, yet near at hand. Then her son’s face once more, smiling at her. Like an image from another world.
And a few seconds later, it was.